


the reek of our futures

by labocat



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Pre-Canon, Vignettes, background harrow/sarai, implied harrow/viren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 07:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17018277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/pseuds/labocat
Summary: Viren would stand by Harrow's side through anything, no matter what the future brought.





	the reek of our futures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beth Winter (BethWinter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethWinter/gifts).



“You're dead, I killed you fair and square!”

“I'm using magic! That's fair!”

“That's necromancy, that's _cheating_!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Is _not_!”

“Is _huh_ , even Master Scarren says so, and he knows _everything_ ”

“Well he doesn't know necromancy, so _there_!”

“Boys, boys, what are you fighting about?”

The two boys scampered apart, standing straight at attention in expectancy of a scolding, hiding their hands that held nothing behind their backs out of habit in the face of Master Wrolk, the training master.

“I killed Viren in our war training game except he wouldn't stay dead and says necromancy isn't cheating when it _is_ ”

“Necromancy is just another type of magic! How can it be cheating?”

Harrow turned to Viren. “All magic is cheating when it comes to swords and fighting, _duh_. You don't have a sword so it's automatically cheating, right Master Wrolk?”

The courtyard master placed one hand on each of the boy’s shoulders. “As long as it's all pretend, everything can be allowed if you have the flexibility and creativity to use what is at hand. That said, in a real battlefield, resources are low and the likelihood of being able to use magic in time to make a difference can be low, so I believe Prince Harrow has a point.”

“Well, when I'm a super good magician and and advisor and stuff I'm going to have a way I can use magic _all_ the time so that no one can surprise me ever again.”

“It still sounds like cheating,” Harrow muttered, kicking the dirt at his feet.

Wrolk turned to Viren. “That's all well and good, but if you want to be a good mage, or even the best in the land, you need to be able to use your powers to protect not only yourself but your king and the people he serves. That means that when you're on the same side, he comes first. Can you do that?”

“I guess.” Viren looked sideways at Harrow, face eventually breaking out into a grin. “I can _definitely_ do that. I'm gonna be the best at magic and learn things no one’s ever learned and protect Harrow with everything I've got.”

“Even necromancy?” Harrow was laughing as well now, nudging Viren as they ducked under Wrolk’s hands, running into the free courtyard and already setting up for another bout.

“Whatever it takes, I'm gonna protect you, just watch!”

————--

 

Ten years later the king died, leaving behind a grieving king consort and Harrow, barely old enough to take the throne and too young to know better. 

“This. Damn. Collar. Won't. Lay. _Flat_. It's like they _want_ it to stick up everywhere and have everyone laugh at me. I bet it's a conspiracy in the laundry room. They haven’t liked me since I was a kid.”

Viren laughed. “Harrow, you're just nervous. And hot hands undo all of their starch, that's all. None of them hold a grudge about all the mud you ground into your clothes as a kid.” Harrow’s collar was easy enough to get to lie flat, once he stopped fussing with it. Viren ran his hands over the shoulders of Harrow’s cloak once more for good measure, before pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to his lips. “Relax. We've all gone over this ceremony a hundred times; you could do it in your sleep if you wanted to.”

The lift of Harrow’s mouth was all the gratitude he needed, along with the way he could feel Harrow’s shoulders drop. “And you couldn't? “

Viren flipped up the chain connecting the two sides of Harrow’s cloak at that, laughing as he had to brush it down off of where it had caught on his nose. “I could have done it in my sleep a good sixty rehearsals ago. But I'm not the one being crowned, and I'm not the one who needs the practice.”

Harrow’s face dropped a bit as his hands came up to frame Viren’s face, thumb running over his chin lightly. “You'd likely be a better king than I.” His voice shook and Viren wished they had more time, time enough for him to take Harrow in his arms and shield him from all of this, time enough for Harrow to let it all sink in and realize he would be a good king. But there was a crowd in the throne room and a dead king and wars waited for no one.

“I wouldn't. You know this—you were raised to it, and I can better support you from an advisor role. The people already love you, they've loved you since you were born. You'll be fine, great even, and I'll be right beside you every step of the way.”

“Every step, you say,” Harrow chuckled, then his voice dropped. “Do you mean that, mean every step? Even if I'm likely to take some very wrong ones?”

“Harrow, sire, _my king_ , my only king, I will be here beside you until one of us draws his last breath.“

“Serious words from a teenager.”

Viren whapped him against his shoulder. “Serious words for a serious occasion, for a king whom I know will be serious in his duty, just as I know you'll be just as not serious outside of it. Harrow, you'll be fine, _trust me_.”

The weight of Harrow’s hand on his shoulder was a warm and welcome one, one that brought Viren up rather than push him down.

“Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you, either as an advisor or a friend.”

“Probably die.” Viren waved his hand flippantly in a circle in the air, only holding the indifferent expression for as long as it took him to meet Harrow’s eyes. They both burst into laughter, and Harrow drew him close.

Harrow smelled like he usually did: of armor polish, of sweat, and of ink, but it was underneath unfamiliar smells, those of good cloth, heavy velvet and the gold of the crown that weighed down his curls, and Viren had the quick thought that he needed to add that scent to his catalog of what made up Harrow. He wouldn't be without the crown often. The tang of it even reached the taste of Harrow’s lips against his, lingering as he pulled back.

“Well, then. Shall we do this?”

“If you don't want someone entirely unsuited to be king to be crowned, yes.”

Harrow sighed. “If only you could keep me honest and be by my side forever. “

“That is the goal, my king.”

“Please, when it is just us, always call me by name.”

“Harrow.”

“Viren.”

“...You really do need to go be crowned.”

Harrow sighed again, deeper this time, but moved toward the door leading to the throne room, letting go of Viren’s hand at only the last moment. “If we must.”

“Just remember that it'll always be ‘we’.”

—------------  
“Breathe. _breathe_ Harrow. It's only a wedding.” To a woman you've been courting for almost two years, he didn't add.

“Yes, but it’s _my_ wedding. Why wasn't I this nervous at your wedding? Why weren't _you_ this nervous?”

Viren laughed. “Because you knew as well as I did that I knew I make good choices, as I know you have now. Sarai has been a good Captain, and will be a better queen. She will keep you honest, as I have, and she loves you. Harrow, it will be _fine_. You'll be fine, you'll both be fine.”

“She already has a son.”

“Whom you already love like your own. I could likely recite all of Callum's achievements at the tender age of four at this point, which I would resent, if—”

“If I couldn't do the same for Soren and Claudia,” Harrow finished.

Viren laughed. “Exactly. It will be fine, you will both be fine, and you will rule just as well—no, better—with Sarai at your side. Trust me.”

“I always do,” Harrow laughed, the familiar hand coming down hard on his shoulder, the heavy weight familiar after all these years and welcome, as always.

“Then you will be fine.”

“If only that could always be true.”

“We will make it so.” Viren could no longer take Harrow in his arms the way they did when they were young, offer the comfort of his body as well as his words, but he found that his words and position were more powerful than ever, even towards Harrow. 

He had the ear of the king. Nothing could go wrong.

—-----------

How did it all go this wrong? 

Thunder was dead, his egg sitting in his laboratory in the dungeons, and Viren should feel on top of the world. He had brought the impossible about, but Harrow wouldn't look at him. 

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. 

Harrow paced around the throne room, and no matter what Viren said, he still paced, hands placed behind him rather than outstretched to take Viren’s, and Viren felt oddly bereft. He hadn't known Harrow’s touch for a number of years now, not even the comfortable weight of his hand on Viren’s shoulder, and the loss shouldn't have felt so sharp.

But Sarai was gone, so was Thunder, but Viren’s life was worse than ever, and it was no one's fault but his own.

That wasn't true. If Thunder hadn't attacked so viciously, Sarai would still be alive, Viren’s magic would still be a boon to the king, and Harrow would still meet his eye with anything more than disdain.

Viren _needed_ it to be more than disdain. 

It was Thunder’s fault, really. If he hadn't exiled the humans from their sources of magic, they never would have developed alternative ones. If they'd never developed alternative magics, humans might still be cowering in fear of the dragons, rather than mounting a counterattack like they should. 

If Thunder hadn't held out for so long…

Viren shook his head and contemplated the serpent in the basket he held. Even if he had to go through with this, sacrifice his life for Harrow’s, at least the human realms would still have a king. It would be worth it. Amaya would listen to her brother-in-law, would march under his banner, and the people would follow. Viren had no such delusions; no one would rally under him, trust his instructions. He had burnt too many bridges, left too much unsaid in the raid against Thunder, that last desperate charge and use of dark magic. It had all turned out okay in the end, and you would think that would be enough for most people, but apparently not the people of Katolis. 

He knocked on Harrow’s door, waiting for permission and knowing in his gut that he should wait for none. He remembered days he walked in freely, gave advice and had it heard, instead of scorned. But the past was the past, and he would build a brighter future, together with Harrow, even if it had to be upon his absence. 

Opening the door, clutching the basket tight, he stepped into Harrow’s room and into their continuing future.


End file.
